Call of the Heart Page 15

  Lord Rothwyn stared at them; then, hearing voices, he went back into his own room.

  The door opened and the Major-Domo entered. With him were four servants.

  “You have found out something, Hobson?” Lord Rothwyn asked quickly, as if he could not wait for the Major-Domo to speak first.

  “I’ve discovered something very strange, M’Lord,” the Major-Domo replied.

  “What is it?”

  “Henry here took the little dog Royal into the gardens tonight after dinner, as is usual, M’Lord.”

  “I meant no harm—I swear I meant no harm, M’Lord,” Henry whimpered.

  “Be silent!” the Major-Domo said sharply. “Let me tell His Lordship.”

  “Go on,” Lord Rothwyn prompted.

  “But Henry did not take the dog straight back to Her Ladyship, as was his orders,” the Major-Domo continued. “Later in the evening George heard Royal whining and scratching at the door of an out-house.” Lord Rothwyn glanced at the young footman who he remembered was a nephew of the Butler at Roth Park.

  “You were certain it was Royal?”

  “I was certain, M’Lord, ‘though I didn’t see ’im.” “You did not open the door?”

  “No, M’Lord, it was locked.” “Then how did you know it was Royal?”

  “I’ve taken ’im out often enough, M’Lord, both ’ere and in the country. When I whistled to ’im ’e were quiet.”

  “What did you do about his being locked up?”

  “I spoke to Henry, M’Lord,” the Major-Domo replied.

  “What did he say?”

  “He said if I knew what was good for me I’d keep my mouth shut!”

  “Go on,” Lord Rothwyn said to the Major-Domo. “I’ve also found, M’Lord,” the Major-Domo continued, “that Nurse, Miss Robinson, the first housemaid, and Rose, the second house-maid were all taken ill after supper this evening. Elsie therefore waited on Her Ladyship.”

  Lord Rothwyn glanced at Elsie.

  She was wearing a white shawl over her flannel night-gown and her hair fell untidily on either side of her face. She was very pale and though she held her head high he fancied that there was a look of fear in her eyes.

  “What happened when you put Her Ladyship to bed?” Lord Rothwyn asked.

  “Nothing, M’Lord,” Elsie replied defiantly.

  Then Henry burst in:

  “That’s not true, M’Lord, but we meant no harm— I swear we meant no harm!”

  “What did you do?” Lord Rothwyn asked.

  “It was just . . . the lady, M’Lord,” Henry said “What lady?”

  “The lady that has been asking almost every day about Her Ladyship’s health.”

  “She asked you?”

  “Yes, M’Lord, she came to the side-door the first time I happened to be on duty there. She asked me about Her Ladyship and gave me half a sovereign. I didn’t think there were any harm in it—honest, M’Lord!”

  “What happened?” Lord Rothwyn asked.

  “She came three times this last week,” Henry answered.

  “Each time she tipped you?”

  “Yes, M’Lord.”

  “Then what happened?”

  “She asked me, M’Lord, if she could talk to one of the maids. She said she was interested in Her Ladyship because she’d known her when she was a child.”

  “So you took Elsie to her?”

  “Not to the carriage, M’Lord.”

  “Then where?”

  “To a house, M’Lord.”

  “Where was that?”

  “In Hill Street, M’Lord.”

  Lord Rothwyn stiffened. A pattern was beginning to emerge. “Why did you take Elsie, who seldom if ever waits on Her Ladyship?”

  “I didn’t think Nurse or Miss Robinson would go, M’Lord.” Lord Rothwyn looked again at Elsie.

  Now she was palpably nervous, twisting her fingers together. “Like Henry, I didn’t mean any harm, M’Lord.” “What happened? Tell me exactly. I want to know every word that was said!”

  Elsie drew a deep breath.

  “She seemed a nice lady, M’Lord. She spoke ever so pleasantly about Her Ladyship.”

  “What did she ask you?”

  There was a moment’s pause and then the colour surged into Elsie’s face.

  “I asked you a question,” Lord Rothwyn said harshly, “and I expect an answer!”

  Elsie dropped her head and said almost inaudibly: “She asked me if you and Her Ladyship slept in the same room.”

  “What did you answer?”

  “I said no, M’Lord.”

  “What did the lady reply to that?”

  “She said to the gentleman: ‘That’s what I told you. ’” “Gentleman? What gentleman?” Lord Rothwyn asked sharply.

  “There was a gentleman with her in the room, M’Lord.”

  “What was he like?”

  “He were a foreigner, M’Lord.”

  “Describe him!”

  “Rather flashy, M’Lord. He wore a lot of jewellery.” “Was he old or young?”

  “Not very young, M’Lord.”

  “What was his reply to the lady’s remark?”

  Again there was silence, but this time it appeared that Elsie was really trying to remember what had been said.

  “I’m not quite certain I’ve got it right, M’Lord,” she said, “but I think he said, though it didn’t make sense to me: ‘That makes the merchandise more valuable.’” Lord Rothwyn drew in his breath sharply.

  “What happened after that?” he asked. “I want the truth.” “The lady said there was someone who was very anxious to speak with Her Ladyship, but she’d have to meet him in secret ... I ... I ... thought ... it was the gentleman in the room.”

  “What then?” Lord Rothwyn asked.

  “She promised me five pounds, M’Lord, if I would arrange for Her Ladyship to come out just for a second to speak to the gentleman who’d be waiting for her in a carriage. I never thought they’d take her away! I never dreamt they’d do such a thing!”

  “But you did not usually wait on Her Ladyship.” “The lady gave me some powder to put in the pie for supper. She said it wouldn’t harm Nurse or the other house-maids.”

  “And it was her idea that you should ask her Ladyship to come and find Royal?” Lord Rothwyn asked in a hard voice. “She told me to say there’d been an accident, M’Lord.”

  “And what was Henry to receive?” Lord Rothwyn enquired. “Five pounds, M’Lord,” Henry muttered.

  Lord Rothwyn was silent for a second and then he said:

  “Did they say anything else, either the lady or the gentleman who was with her? Did they say anything— anything except to tell you what to do? Think now, it might be important.”

  Elsie looked at Henry but he was staring down at his feet. Then she said:

  “Just as I was leaving the room, M’Lord, I thought the gentleman said something. I couldn’t quite catch it, but it sounded like ‘tide.’ ”

  Lord Rothwyn gave an exclamation. Then without another word he pushed passed the servants who were standing in front of the door and ran down the front stairs.

  Royal followed Lord Rothwyn before anyone could prevent him.

  A footman gave him his hat and cloak, then opened the front door. Outside, a carriage was waiting.

  Lord Rothwyn stepped into it.

  “To the docks with all possible speed!” he said to the coachman.

  Only as the carriage-door shut and the horses started off did he realise that Royal was sitting beside him on the back seat.

  It seemed to Lalitha that she was being carried a long way from Rothwyn House.

  She was too frightened to move even when she was thrown from side to side by the movement of the carriage.

  The rope was biting into her ankles and she was finding it hard to breathe beneath the heavy thickness of the cloth which

  covered her face.

  She tried to think but her head felt as if it was filled with wool and she was
only aware of a fear flickering within her like the pointed tongue of a serpent.

  Where was she being taken?

  She thought then that she had been right in knowing who had kidnapped her.

  She was to be shipped abroad and sold to the highest bidder in some foreign town.

  She was too innocent and too unsophisticated to realise exactly what would happen once she was put up for sale, and yet she knew that it would be a degradation and horror beyond anything she could imagine.

  What was more, no-one would ever find her and she would never see Lord Rothwyn again.

  She found herself thinking how little she would have to remember; his kiss when he had thought she was Sophie, the feel of his head against her breast, and the silk of his hair touching her lips.

  Would that be enough to sustain her, to keep her sane through the terror of what was waiting for her?

  She wondered whether there would be any chance of his finding her even perhaps after she had been sold.

  Would he think it worth-while to cross the sea to search for her, or would he never guess where she might have gone? Perhaps, she thought despairingly, he would think she had run away once again.

  Yet how could he think such a thing after the happiness of the dinner they had eaten together, the way in which they had talked, and when he must have known how thrilled she was with the drawings he had given to her.

  She thought of the moment at which they had been interrupted.

  “Lalitha!” he had said and there had been a note in his voice which vibrated through her whole body.

  She remembered how she had said to him:

  “You will . . . laugh at me for being . . . sentimental.”

  “I am not laughing,” Lord Rothwyn had replied. “I want to tell you something.”

  What had he wanted to tell her? _

  She remembered the look in his eyes, a look which had made her thrill and quiver in a manner which she could not translate into words but which had been very wonderful.

  She had felt at that moment a strange excitement well up inside her.

  It had been impossible to speak; hard even to breathe.

  Her eyes had been held by his, so that she thought that he was telling her wonderful things that she had always longed to know but had never heard expressed.

  Perhaps she had been mistaken; perhaps she had simply been blinded by her love for him, which made her see things that were not there and imagine something which had no foundation in fact.

  She loved him so desperately that just to be near him was to feel herself vibrate to a strange music that came from within her very soul.

  She recalled then how she had told him that she looked at a drawing not with her eyes but with her soul.

  After she had read him the poem he had asked her whether she thought the lady to whom Lord Hadley had addressed it had called to his heart.

  When she had found it difficult to answer him the note in his voice had changed.

  What did it all mean?

  Or had it indeed meant nothing?

  He was so kind, so sympathetic, that perhaps it was only part of his re-construction of her and meant nothing special to him. Now she would never know the answers to all the questions which had puzzled her.

  She was being taken away. She would never see him again! The future would be a hell worse than anything she had suffered from her Step-mother.

  She wanted to scream at the thought but knew what would happen to her if she made a sound.

  She was back where she had been before, cringing at the thought of being whipped, expecting to receive a blow, certain of making mistakes because she was so afraid.

  “Can I never escape from this?” she asked herself.

  She thought someone answered cynically: “Only by death!” Then Lalitha knew that if what she suspected was true, if she was indeed being taken to some foreign place to be humiliated and degraded in a manner she could not at the moment imagine, then she must die.

  She wondered if it would be hard to kill herself and how she should do it.

  There would obviously not be a pistol within her reach. Perhaps too prisoners were not allowed to possess knives.

  How then could she die?

  She felt that if one was determined enough it would not be impossible. Somehow she would find a way, but only when she was certain that Lord Rothwyn would not come to her rescue.

  What would he feel if he followed her and then found that she was dead?

  Then mockingly the thought came to her that perhaps he would be relieved. She would no longer be an encumbrance upon him, no longer a trouble as she had been up to now.

  Why should he concern himself with anyone so tiresome?

  She remembered that she did not yet know what he had said to Sophie.

  Why had he left Sophie at Roth Park and come in search of her?

  Sophie had been so insistent that all he wanted was her love, and that once she had given it to him he would no longer have a thought for anyone else.

  But he had left Sophie and followed after her so quickly that he had caught up with the stage-coach before it reached London.

  If she had gone on to Norfolk as she had intended, Lalitha thought, it might have been more difficult for him to find her.

  He did not know where her Nurse lived.

  As far as she knew, he had no idea where her home was before her Step-mother had sold it and they had come to London.

  But even if she had managed to change coaches in London and start off for Norwich, Lalitha thought now, that would not have deterred him.

  He had not finished with her after all and therefore he would have pursued her as he would pursue her now.

  Quite suddenly it seemed to her that there was a light at the end of a very long tunnel.

  There was hope!

  There was an irresistible belief deep down within her that he would not let her go. He would find her somehow.

  But how would he ever know what had happened?

  It had all been so cleverly done, she thought; Nattie and the house-maids ill, Elsie attending her, and because she thought Royal was involved in an accident she had run impetuously from her bed-room so that no-one would know where she had gone.

  Lord Rothwyn would be asleep now, confident that she too was sleeping in the next room.

  How often had she looked at the communicating door which lay between them?

  When he had been ill she had visualised herself opening it and going into him even though he had not asked for her.

  He would have been shocked at her presumption, perhaps angry because he would consider it an impertinence.

  Yet she would have seen him; she would have heard his voice. Even to listen to him when he was angry with her was better than not hearing him at all.

  What would happen when the morning came? Who would tell him that she had not slept in her bed?

  Nattie would do so if she was well enough, or would it be Elsie who would keep the house-hold from realising that she was not in the house?

  Part of the next day might pass before anybody realised that she was not there, and by that time where would she be?

  Lalitha wanted to cry out at the hopelessness of it.

  The horses came to a stand-still and she realised that for quite some time they had been rumbling over heavy cobbles which shook the carriage and were very unlike the smooth roads in the smarter part of London.

  Now she heard a ship’s bell and she was sure that they were down by the river.

  For the first time since they had left Park Lane the man beside her spoke.

  “Keep quiet an’ don’t move!” he said. “One sound an’ Oi’ll sock ye!”

  Lalitha heard him open the carriage-door and step outside.

  She could hear him talking to another man, but the cloth which covered her head was so thick that it was difficult to distinguish what they said.

  Rough hands then picked her up and carried her from the carriage.

  There wer
e two men, she knew that.

  They placed her on what seemed to be a stretcher and someone else, a third man, threw some heavy covering over her and pulled it over her feet.

  It covered her completely so that now she could hardly breathe.

  They were moving and there was a man walking in front and one behind her.

  They walked across cobbles and then Lalitha knew that they were taking her up a gangway.

  A man spoke to them and although he spoke in English it was with a pronounced foreign accent.

  “Down below!” he said. “There’s only one more to come, then we sail.”

  She had been right in what she feared!

  She was in a ship and they were taking her across the Channel.

  Frantically she began to pray that Lord Rothwyn would somehow find her.

  “Save me! Save me!” she called him with her heart. “Find out where they are . . . taking me. Save me because . . . otherwise ... I must die!”

  The men carrying her had set the stretcher down on the deck and now one of them picked her up in his arms and put her over his shoulder.

  Her head was hanging down his back and his arm encircled her legs.

  He was climbing down a steep companion-way to what appeared to be the bowels of the ship.

  He moved along a passage so narrow that his shoulders brushed against the sides.

  He unlocked a door, and to enter what Lalitha imagined was a cabin he had to bend his head and he put his other hand on her back so that she would not fall off his shoulder.

  Then he set her abruptly down on the floor, so roughly that it hurt.

  She gave a little exclamation of pain and then was afraid in case he would be angered by it.

  She felt his hands fumbling with the rope tied round her waist, then he pulled the cloth from her head.

  For a moment she could see nothing and thought that they had blinded her.

  Without speaking he tightened the rope round her hands again, then drew a handkerchief from his pocket and tied it over her mouth.

  “This is t’ help ye keep silent,” he said. “Oi told ye before what’d happen if ye make a noise and that goes for the rest of ye!” he added in a louder tone.

  The handkerchief hurt Lalitha’s mouth and she suspected that it was not particularly clean.

  As the man went from the room, his feet heavy on the bare boards, she realised that there was a faint light coming through one port-hole and that the reason it was hard to see was that it was still dark outside.